April 29, 2008
by Amy
I took a day off today since I worked the weekend. Glasses called to see if I was alright. I assured him that I was fine and that I would be in tomorrow. He told me not to worry about it.
Around lunchtime, Coleman dropped by to see if I had, in his words, been “properly radicalized” from my experience. I assured him I had not, if it meant violent revolution. He called me a regressive romantic.
“No one gives up power on their own. You have to take it from them,” he snorted. “Wave to the revolution, Amy, because it’s passing you right by. The only time I remember that you’re a chick is when it comes to this.”
When he got tired of telling me what a bore I was, he left. I took a nap for a short while. Not too long, of course, because then I got a phone call from Lesley.
She’s still at Columbia, with her Barnard friends. She feels very alive there, she says. I was surprised that the Columbia rebellion is still going on. The administration there met one of their demands right away – stop work on the racist gym. Now they’re fighting for amnesty for people protesting against the gym.
She sympathized about my wrist. I wished her luck in escaping the same fate.
I don’t have the heart to tell my parents, who still don’t know about what happened to me and my wrist. I don’t have the energy to call them. I don’t have the heart to talk to anyone else. Maybe this is the natural let-down after feeling so alive in a group of people – so connected. But I’ve never felt it as acutely as I do right now.
